Tough Love
by Jerathai
Summary: Jake unexpectedly confronts a ghost from his past, and finds he has even more in common with the Na'vi than he realized.


Jake was preoccupied throughout the hunters' meeting. He had the strongest feeling that he had forgotten something, or lost something. When the meeting was over he asked Sir'tey to start the combat training without him. He was determined to chase down whatever it was that was bugging him so strongly.

The Olo'eyctan walked around the base of New Hometree – the feeling was pulling him forward, around a corner. He turned around one of the great mangrove-roots of the Tree and found himself face to face with a young boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, who looked like he'd lost his best friend. "Little brother, what's wrong?" Jake's question was automatic.

The boy was shocked. He'd been so preoccupied with his misery that he hadn't heard anyone approaching. "Toruk Makto!" Then the young one's pain overwhelmed his surprise. "Please, it is my father. I am so afraid for him, can you please help?"

Jake didn't need to think about it, he just motioned the boy to precede him. Hope appeared on the child's face and he raced away, making sure that the Olo'eyctan followed.

The two of them soon arrived at a sunny spot not far from the Tree. A Na'vi male was leaning back against a small tree's trunk with his eyes closed, apparently asleep in the sun. It didn't seem to Jake that anything was amiss until he got close enough to see around the tree and get a good look at the man. Then his gorge rose in his throat and he had to pause to swallow it down before he could approach.

One of the man's legs had been severed, halfway between the hip and knee. It was obvious that the limb had been lost in the war, because the wound had been seared closed at the same time it had been made. It was plain to Jake that a flaming hot piece of metal had both caused the injury and ironically saved the man's life by cauterizing the wound shut.

The boy was plainly used to his father's appearance; he approached the man without hesitation and laid a gentle hand on one shoulder, "_Sem'pul_, the Olo'eyctan is here, he wishes to speak to you."

The former hunter's eyes opened, and a cold chill ran down Jake's spine and roiled his stomach. He could have been looking into a years-ago mirror. The expression in the man's eyes, of rage, bitterness, loss, and hopelessness was one that he had worn himself after he'd woken up in the V.A. hospital a paraplegic.

The Na'vi said without preamble, "My _ikran_ is dead. When the _tawtute_ flying machine died, a piece of its shell took off my leg and buried itself in Taneta's neck. She kept her wings spread long enough for me to survive the fall, but she was dead before we hit the ground." Bitterness overwhelmed the man's face. His son drew back, almost in tears.

Jake took a deep, steadying breath. He addressed the child, "Do you know where your father's bow is?"

The boy was startled, but nodded.

"Fetch it," the Olo'eyctan commanded, and watched the youngster scamper away obediently.

The cripple's eyes had opened in startlement, "I cannot hunt. I will never be useful to the clan again."

The marine's voice was low, but underneath was a viciousness that no Omaticaya had ever heard before now. "Don't you tell me that a man without a leg is useless. Ever. Don't."

The hunter was shocked into speechlessness by the controlled violence in Jake's words. Looking up at his Olo'eyctan, Me'retan saw the full power and danger of Toruk itself personified in this _tsamsiyu _dreamwalker who had become one with the Na'vi.

Jake continued, "You have your eyesight. You see everything that any other Na'vi sees. You have both hands. You can make anything using those hands that any Na'vi can make. You have years of experience as _taronyu._"

He got a bit better hold on his emotions; it was almost as if he was speaking to that long-ago man he'd seen in the mirror. "We have hands of young men and women who don't know the first thing about hunting, who will die the first time they step into the jungle without the knowledge that you have to give them."

Me'retan had to look aside from the fiery expression in those eyes, and spat sideways on the ground. "Not enough knowledge to keep myself from becoming useless. Eywa should have let me die with Taneta."

That statement made Jake understand why he'd been led here. Mo'at had said it: _Eywa sends the tsahik that is most appropriate, the one most likely to do what is needed to address the situation._ "Eywa kept you alive because she has work for you to do." The hunter looked back at the Olo'eyctan, surprised and puzzled.

The marine asked viciously, "Are you going to do nothing and let the young hunters die the first time they try to hunt? Are you going to sit there and let them be massacred when the Sky People come back and try to kill us all? Are you going to just close your eyes when the _tawtute_ murder your mate and your son right in front of your face?"

Me'retan gasped, shocked out of his misery by the graphic images that the questions brought up.

The boy returned with his father's bow in hand and stopped in shock; the Olo'eyctan reminded him of _palulukan_ deciding whether or not to strike. He gulped.

Jake held out his hand and the child gave him the bow instantly. "Here is your other leg," he stated and tossed the bow to the injured hunter. The man had to catch the weapon or be hit by it. "I will tell Sir'tey that you will start teaching the new hunters tomorrow morning." The tone of the Olo'eyctan's voice brooked no argument.

Me'retan's son started towards his father, but Toruk Makto intervened. "Do not help him," came the order. "He has had too much help already. It's time for him to stand on his own again."

The boy was anguished, looking between his two elders. Then the hunter said quietly, "Do as you are told, Celkey. Go help your mother gather firewood. I will see you tonight."

Jake waited until the boy had obeyed, then turned and left the hunter without saying another word.

The next day he went to the archery-ground as soon as the hunters' meeting was over. He deliberately kept out of sight, moving quietly from one place to another until he found what he was looking for.

Me'retan was sitting on a log, propped up by his one good leg stretched out in front of him. He was berating a new archer, "Aiiii! Who taught you how to hold a bow, child? Do you think that it is going to bite you? And why are you wearing your father's arm guard? It would fit better around your neck! Go to the leatherworkers _right now_ and get a proper one, or my good bow will give you another set of stripes! And you! Are you _trying_ to lose your fingers? Come here, I will show you the _proper_ way to draw a bowstring…."

A huge weight fell off of Jake, and he exhaled deeply. A wry smile came over his face at the suffering expression on the faces' of his newest hunter-teacher's students, and he slipped away without anyone being the wiser to his presence.

That night at the evening meal, Me'retan was sitting with his wife and son, explaining how to properly lash an arrowhead onto a shaft without overweighting the missle. His mate's eyes were puffy and moist, but she had a smile on her face.

Celkey was having trouble understanding how to tie off the binding-cord, and his father made an exasperated sound. "Pah! Here, I will go get one and show you how to do it."

From out of nowhere a strong blue arm and an open hand was thrust before Me'retan's chest. The little family looked up to see Jake standing before them, arm extended and waiting.

The hunter looked up at Toruk Makto; a look of understanding passed between the two men. Me'retan reached for his bow and set his good foot underneath him. "_Irayo_, Olo'eyctan, but," he leaned forward and heaved himself up, steadying himself with the bowstave. He stood up straight and looked Jake in the eye, man to man, "I can stand by myself."

Jake dropped his hand and the smallest of smiles came over his face. "I knew you could," he said quietly.

Me'retan looked down at his son, "Come, Celkey. My arrows are at our hammock."

The Olo'eyctan backed up out of the way as the hunter moved off with his mate and son at his sides. He heard the man say, "Tomorrow I shall get myself a shorter stick to walk with, and I will have you start practicing with my bow," before they were beyond easy earshot.

Jake said softly, "You learned a lot faster than I did, my friend."

Neytiri came up behind him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What did you say, Jake? I didn't hear you."

He turned to his own mate, covered her hand with his, and smiled. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."


End file.
